


maybe i'm a crook for stealing your heart away

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [17]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “Tell me what I have to do,” he says finally, his throat dry. “Tell me what I have to do to make you forgive me.”





	maybe i'm a crook for stealing your heart away

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm sorry this is so late.
> 
> I've been crazy cramming finals and such for school. I finally burned through the rest of it, and here it is. I did a very speedy edit on it, so apologizes if there's any mistakes.
> 
> Making Dark talk is like pulling teeth without anesthesia. Painful. I honestly want to punch him.
> 
> But another time, another time. I won't keep you waiting any longer. Please enjoy! 
> 
> Title from "Love Love Love" by Of Monsters and Men.

His knuckles are busted and bloody when he returns to his home. 

Dark has exactly twenty minutes to himself, enough time to shower, change clothes, and ignoring the sting of his hands before he considers settling in for a dreamless sleep, because he could use that about now.

The lock on the door clicks at a key entering it, and that irritates Dark beyond belief, because he already knows who it is long before the door opens. 

“Goddamn it, Jules,” he hisses under his breath. Crossing his arms, he stares down the door as it swings open, and yes, there’s Jack. “Do you actually have manners, darling? Or am I the only person you break into the house of.”

“I didn’t break in, I have a key,” Jack says blandly, holding up the metal to show him. “Jules told me that you wanted to see me and gave it to me.” 

“I don’t need you,” and isn’t that a boldface lie? “You can go now.”

Jack makes no effort to leave, closing the door behind him. His gaze settles on Dark’s hands. “The hell happened to you?” 

“Oh, you know,” Dark says flippantly. “Bears. People. Sometimes the same thing, really.”

“That’ll get infected if you don’t do something with it,” Jack murmurs, not finding his comment funny in the slightest. Stuffing the key into his pocket, he kicks off his shoes and walks into the bathroom. 

Dark stares after him with mild interest as Jack returns with assorted medical items that Dark honestly doesn’t remember keeping in the bathroom. 

“I don’t need you to play mother,” Dark says snippily. “I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself.”

“I wouldn’t know what it’s like to play mother,” Jack’s eyes slide to his. “Never had a comparison.” 

The comment alone makes Dark’s blood boil. But he says nothing. With his free hand, Jack crosses the room and gives him a gentle push, indicating his desire for Dark to sit down. He takes a couple moments to consider before finally sitting down. 

Jack kneels in front of him on the floor, setting the array of cotton balls and bandages and antiseptic down. He opens the bag of cotton balls, and dabbing some of the disinfectant onto it, he looks up at Dark through his long lashes, holding out his hand. When Dark indicates no movement, Jack grabs his hand anyway. 

Shit stings, going on. It stung before Jack had touched it, but the disinfectant doesn’t help. He doesn’t hiss or wince in the slightest though, because getting the scrapes had certainly hurt more than this. He’s had things hurt plenty worse than this to boot. 

The gesture feels so intimate, but he can tell Jack is still irritated, annoyed, pissed. He especially knows this by the way Jack ties the bandages around his hands tighter than entirely necessary. He continues to work on the second hand without speaking. 

“I’m fine, Jack,” Dark says finally, pulling his hand away. “Leave it alone.”

Jack doesn’t answer, grabbing his hand back as he ties the bandages around it. Dark yanks his hand away. 

“You’re stupid,” Jack says petulantly. 

Dark rolls his eyes. “Alright. Now that we’re done exchanging insults like fifth graders…”

“When are we going after Cry?” Jack asks, remaining on his knees. He brushes the hair out of his eyes, the faded green locks fluffy. He needs a haircut soon. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“Never, if you keep that attitude up,” Dark stretches his arms back behind him, reclining on the bed. “If we go in there now, you’re going to die, but not before being taken and tortured. Whatever you went through with Cry the first time? It’s going to be ten times worse, because he knows who you are and what you’re there for. Death will be a mercy. He may not even kill you. Do you understand that?” 

“Will you stop talking big and mighty?” Jack grouses out. “I know what he’s capable of. Probably more than you.”

Dark sighs. “I hardly think--” 

“No, shut up,” Jack hisses. He rises to his feet. “You’ve never been taken by him. You’ve seen what he’s capable of, but you haven’t lived it. I still have _scars_ , Dark. Ones you’ve never seen because you never looked for them. Every time I sleep I still see him, I feel his hands on me. Breaking my bones. Touching me. Making me feel like--I was dirty. Worthless. I hear his voice every day, whispering to me, deciding ways he was going to send me back to you, ways he was going to rip out my organs, cut off fingers and cut out eyes, sending them to you. I know you know exactly what he’s capable of, but until you’ve felt it, _shut up_.” 

Dark presses his lips into a thin line. He rises to his feet, and glances down at Jack. He’s always been a little taller than him, and a small, angry part of him wants to reach out. He hates how old Jack’s gotten, hates that the innocence he’d cherished so desperately is gone now. He’s still Jack, he always will be, but he’s different now, changed.

Perhaps he’s been like this for some time, and Dark’s never noticed before. 

He wants to kill Cry for this, more than he ever has. Dark had never known the full details of what Jack went through, and likely never will, but listening to him speak, the voice of someone who is still haunted by such an awful beast of a man--he wants blood. 

With his now bandaged hands, he pats the back of Jack’s head, bringing him forward to kiss him gently on the forehead. Jack’s body tenses at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. Dark twirls his fingers around the unkempt locks at the nape of his neck, raising his other hand to Jack’s cheek. 

“Tell me what I have to do,” he says finally, his throat dry. “Tell me what I have to do to make you forgive me.” 

The words are awkward in his mouth, heavy and sour. He’s not used to this. Dark’s not sure he’s ever asked for anyone’s forgiveness in his life. He’s never had to. People usually beg him for forgiveness, but this boy--this young _man_ \--had more power over him than Dark ever wants to admit, yet here he is. 

Jack says nothing. He swallows deeply, but says nothing, carefully keeping his eyes fixated on their feet. 

Dark tilts his chin up, forcing him to look at him. Their eyes meet, and he searches for something, anything--an indication, an inkling. His blue eyes are usually so expressive, so open and clear, full of everything Dark’s ever wanted to know, but he’s so good at hiding, recently. He finds nothing. 

A beat passes. Jack blinks, not pulling away, but not offering anything. Dark lets him go, but Jack holds the gaze. 

“I would do anything for you,” Dark murmurs, hands sliding to his shoulders. He grips him, not hard, but firm. “I would do anything you asked, and you’d only have to tell me.” 

Jack breathes out. That cloudiness is still in his eyes, prohibiting him from seeing his thoughts, his feelings. He’s a puzzle that Dark thought he had the solution to, but he’s finding he’s more complex than meets the eye, that he’s taking more to figure out than he’d thought before. 

“Please,” the word slips out of his mouth, unfiltered, and that seems to grab Jack’s attention. His eyes widen, but still he’s silent, and Dark mumbles out, “Please, Jack. I’ll do...I’ll do anything. Anything to make you forgive me. Whatever you want, I’ll do it for you.” 

Dark’s not sure _please_ has been in his vocabulary up until this point. He knows that he’s never said it--he’d rather have his tongue cut out then invoke pity in someone, pleading his case. But he means this, what he says right now, more than anything. Not having Jack these last weeks, having him but him being distant, _cold_ \--the pain is there, prevalent. He’d been sure he’d thrown out all manners of feelings so long ago, had been sure he cared for Jack, yes, but nothing more, nothing else, but now--

_I’m not in love with him_ , he hisses at himself, his mind, the tremble within himself. He’s never known this sort of weakness, and it infuriates him. He stuffs it the fuck down. _It doesn’t exist. Not for me._

Jack closes his eyes, inclining his head away. Dark moves his hands to cup his cheeks, and he knows, he _knows_ he told himself to give Jack space, to let him sort things out, but he can’t read him at all and _goddamn_ it he’s tired of waiting. 

Kissing him as always been the easiest way to placate him, to calm him down. Dark’s never cared for it, it’s never been high on his list of things to _do_ , but he presses their lips together anyway, trying to impart _something_ , anything. 

It surprises him when Jack kisses back, tentatively, withdrawn. The kiss lasts only a few seconds, and when he pulls back, Jack’s looking at him again. Dark rubs his thumb along his cheekbones, and if nothing else, Jack seems marginally consoled by the gesture. 

“Do you think about it?” Jack whispers, after what feels like forever. “Do you think about killing her?” 

Honestly may get him nowhere this round, but-- “No. I don’t. I don’t think about the people I kill. It doesn’t do any good. I can’t bring them back, I might as well not regret it.”

“Would you have done it if you’d known going in?” Jack’s hands touch his. They’re cold, but they don’t shake. “If you had known when that job was handed to you who she was, would you have done it?” 

“I pick and choose which jobs I take,” Dark doesn’t let go of him, and why he can’t figure out. His hands slide to his shoulders again, rooting him in place. Maybe he’s grounding himself, too, as he speaks the words. “If I had known that she was your mother when Jules handed me the job, I would have said no.” 

Jack swallows, nodding. Then, “Why didn’t you tell me that night? The night you did it?” 

“I’m not entirely sure what I was supposed to tell you,” Dark says. “I felt it...better to spare you from that pain. Of knowing I killed her. I didn’t want you to be faced with that dilemma.” 

“And you wanted to hide it from me.”

Not a question, a fact. “Yes. I didn’t want you to know.” 

“Honesty is a nice color on you,” Jack smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He expels another breath, tense and frustrated. “I don’t forgive you.” 

“Then tell me how,” the fabric of Jack’s t-shirt bunches between his fingers. “Tell me how to earn it, and I’ll do it.” 

“Why do you want it?” Jack fires back. 

_Say it. Say it._

“Because I…” Dark grits his teeth. “Because I recognize that I...made a mistake. I should have told you. I want to make amends.” 

“Why?” 

_SAY IT._

“I owe this to you,” he murmurs. He doesn’t realize he’s trembling until Jack’s hand grabs his wrist. “You deserve this from me.” 

“Why?”

_Goddamn--_

“Because you love me,” Dark says, as evenly as he can. “You've always loved me.” 

“Do I?” Jack asks, and fuck if that doesn’t hit him in the stomach. He had never considered the possibility that Jack could _stop_ loving him at this point. But in the face of this, it feels very real, prevalent. 

Maybe he doesn’t anymore. 

“Do you?” he counters, not as strong as he’d like. 

For as long as he’s known, he’s been Dark, the Monster, the Absolute Most Dangerous Man in the Country. There are thousands of people with bounties on his head, crimes staked to him, a death warrant with his name. And he would kill them all without blinking, without thinking, without care. Even if Jack said not to. 

But he would do _anything_ for him, he knows this. That’s the paradox. 

Dark promised himself to never get this close to anyone. After his sister, he never wanted anything to be used against him, ever. He’s always been cold and cruel before anything happened, it’s why he got involved with his fucking mentor to begin with, and he’s always been obsessed with being the one in control of a situation--the boss, the one with all the power.

And then comes Jack goddamn McLoughlin ruining fucking everything. 

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” Jack says, and something in Dark’s chest seizes.

He looks so much like Anti, then. Straightened shoulders, a lifted chin, voice clear, calm. The only thing wrong is the eye color, but even then, they’re as sure as Anti’s eyes ever were. 

Prying himself away from Dark’s grip, Jack turns on his heel and leaves the house.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I don't sound like a broken record, but I really do love hearing from all of you, every single time. Every single comment, I read and appreciate, and I know last update I wasn't good about replying to comments, but hopefully I'll be better this time around! Honestly, I get so freaking happy whenever I get a new email with a comment, or even a kudo, or an ask from you guys on Tumblr. Thank you so much.
> 
> I have tentative plans to conclude this series around 20 parts--so roughly 3 to go. Maybe more, maybe less depending, but that's my goal.
> 
> Come chat with me over at galaxyghosty.tumblr.com!


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